


Stages

by spacepint



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Canon Era, F/M, Incest?, i am trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacepint/pseuds/spacepint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Pull the division out. Forget the droid.” He commands, as he looks down on the girl. “We have what we need.” His voice softens almost imperceptibly on the last part, before he swiftly renders the girl unconscious.</p><p>(A look at the scenes from the movie from the perspectives of Rey and Kylo Ren.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stages

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt at writing fiction - period. I'm really tempted to delete it, but I'm going to leave it up so that I can look back at it and say "Oh God, look at that. I guess I have gotten better."
> 
> Obviously, it will not be updated. :P

* * *

Rey can hear the blood pounding in her ears as she listens to the familiar growls in the forest. No - not growls, the angry hum of the lightsaber she’d seen in her vision. She nervously backs up, readying her gun to fire.

Her foot lands on a rock and slides to the side, but she catches herself in time and glances behind to check the path and ensure that no one is behind her. As she turns back, the figure from her vision steps out from behind an outcropping, as horrifying and riveting as she had remembered. She brings the gun up and fires, but each shot is deflected by the lightsaber as the masked man advances.

She runs, shooting haphazardly as she goes.

When she makes it to the top of a ridge, she turns to fire at the man as he climbs up, thinking that it will be more difficult for him to block her shots while he is occupied with finding his footing.

Instead, she finds herself frozen in place, the horrified realization that this thing, this masked nightmare is able to halt her movement. She desperately commands her arm to raise, to point the gun at him. Her breathing is ragged and she lets out a small whimper with the effort. But no matter how hard she pushes, her body stubbornly refuses to comply.

“The girl I’ve heard so much about.” The voice is unexpected, deep and faintly robotic, as he strides over. He clearly isn’t worried that she will be able to break out of her current state, and his cavalier attitude only makes the fear curling in her stomach that much sharper.

Her breath hitches as he moves out of her line of vision, the hairs on the back of her neck rising as she feels his presence somewhere behind her.

“The droid,” he states, and she barely has time to register the sound of the lightsaber moving through the air before it is poised at her neck, the angry buzz painful in her ear and the heat uncomfortable against her skin, “where is it?”

She doesn’t say anything, she couldn’t if she wanted to. There is an odd prickling at the back of her mind as she thinks about the little droid, and unbidden, her thoughts jump to the memory of the map projection.

“The map… you’ve seen it.”

Before she can think about the implications of his statement, one of the nearby stormtroopers interrupts.

“Sir, resistance fighters. We need more troops.”

“Pull the division out. Forget the droid. We have what we need.”

Rey feels nothing as she slides into unconsciousness.

* * *

He senses her fear as he activates his lightsaber, can practically taste her panic each time he brandishes it and the noise carries through the trees. It’s intoxicating. He gives her a wide berth as he moves stealthily towards her in a half-circle, twirling the lightsaber every few seconds for effect.

It’s tempting to draw it out longer, but he has a job to do.

As he steps out from the rock, she fires her weapon at him, and he easily swings to block it. She continues to volley shots at him, but they are easily deflected; years of training have seen to that. He understands now why the previous stormtroopers had failed in their mission: although she is slight, she’s an excellent shot, and she’s quick on her feet. She would not be easy for someone of limited training and power to apprehend. He feels a flicker of admiration swell, in spite of his irritation at the stress her previous evasion had caused.

He finds himself pushing her a little harder, wanting to see how she’ll react.

She scurries up a small ridge, and as he goes to follow her he decides that he’s seen enough.

She’s about to raise her gun when he stops her. He sees the panic rise in her face, hears her breath becoming labored in fear and effort, and his lips curl slightly behind the mask.

“The girl I’ve heard so much about.” He didn’t think her eyes could look more fearful, but another surge of panic twists her features into a grimace as he moves toward her. Her breathing seems to freeze for a moment as he passes behind her. He can faintly smell sweat radiating from her, the acrid note a clear indication of her terror.

“The droid,” he says, as he swings his lightsaber around to rest centimeters away from her neck, “where is it?”

She doesn’t say anything. Maybe she doesn’t know, or maybe she’s trying to be heroic; either way, he doesn’t have the time. He gently probes at her mind with his, nudging it towards the memories of the drone. He’s shocked when he realizes that it has shown her the map piece.

“The map… you’ve seen it.” His wonder bleeds through in his tone as the words slip out of their own accord.

“Sir, resistance fighters. We need more troops.” A nearby stormtrooper breaks him out of his reverie, and he withdraws from her mind.

“Pull the division out. Forget the droid.” He commands, as he looks down on the girl. “We have what we need.” His voice softens almost imperceptibly on the last part, before he swiftly renders the girl unconscious.

When he catches her and cradles her to his chest, he tells himself that it’s because the stormtroopers are incompetent and he doesn’t want to entrust something as vital as the map piece to them. He tells himself that the droid is an acceptable loss, even though there’s a good chance it (and the map piece) will end up in rebel hands. They don’t need the droid. They’ve already expended enough fighters and there’s no point in bringing backup troops when the droid is redundant.

When catching it would make her redundant.

He’s become so adept at lying he can almost believe himself.

* * *

Even through the layers of his clothing, he can feel her wiry body pressed against him. He can tell that she has muscle, though it’s not as much as he had anticipated. She doesn’t weigh as much as she should, and he is perturbed by the flare of concern he feels at the realization. No doubt being a scavenger on a far-flung cultural backwater like Jakku lacked certain niceties. Like sufficient nourishment. Or regular bathing. Any number of hygienic practices, if her smell is anything to go by.

Not that it’s entirely unpleasant.

Perhaps he can offer the carrot instead of the stick during his interrogation, this time.

* * *

She had remained unconscious the entire way back to the ship, and now she is strapped into The Chair.

Kylo Ren sits crouched on the floor a few feet away. He’s been there for several minutes now, contemplating what he would do when she finally woke.

He has decided not to entice her with food. He had considered it, but thoughts of her eating stirred strange feelings within him.

He felt it was best to avoid providing food.

For now.

He sighs.

* * *

When Rey awakes, she is in a strange metal room, most likely the interior of a ship. The tang of blood is in the air, and she wonders how badly she’s been injured.

She feels like shit and she’s strapped into a chair. She can’t remember exactly what happened, but her body aches and she feels tense. As she peers around the room, she realizes that a familiar figure is crouched not far from her, staring. She feels a flush of anxiety as recognition hits and the past few hours come back.

She exhales sharply through her nose. “Where am I?”

“You’re my guest.” He provides smoothly, without a trace of irony.

“Where are the others?”

“You mean the murderers, traitors, and thieves you call friends?” She can hear the sneer that hides behind his mask. “You’ll be relieved to hear I’ve no idea.”

He pauses for a moment, studying her. “You still want to kill me.” He says this as if he’s surprised, as if wanting to kill the person who terrorized you and wants to grievously harm your friends is entirely irrational.

“That happens when you’re being hunted by a creature in a mask.” Rey injects as much disdain as she can into the sentence.

The figure stills for a moment, then he smoothly rises from his crouch while unfastening the clasps that hold his mask in place. As he removes it, his dark hair falls around his shoulders. He evaluates her with a piercing stare, and she can’t help but notice the little moles on either side of his nose.

Rey has seen far more handsome men before. Really, objectively, he’s not particularly good looking, although there is a certain pleasantness to his harsh features. She is surprised to see that he is so young, and so vulnerable looking. His face is softened by the asymmetry of his jawline, and there’s a slight natural slant to the way his lips sit that makes him appear nervous. Without the mask, he could almost seem… lost. Kind.

 _Almost_ , she thinks bitterly.

He moves closer to her. “Tell me about the droid.”

 _Okay. I can play that game._ “He’s a BB unit with a selenium drive and a thermal hyperscan vindicato-”

“He’s carrying a section of a navigational chart.” He smoothly interrupts, sparing her a glance that speaks volumes about just how patient he’s being in dealing with her. “And we have the rest, recovered from the archives of the empire. But we want the last piece, and somehow you convinced the droid to show it to you.”

He pauses, slightly angling his eyebrows. “You,” his voice is heavy with meaning, and he pauses again for effect before finishing contemptuously, “a scavenger.”

He breaks eye contact to look down briefly, before his gaze snaps back to hers and his eyebrows furrow. “You know I can take whatever I want.” He murmurs huskily, before moving to stand next to her, his outstretched palm next to the side of her head.

The effect his voice and proximity have on her is infuriating, especially given the threat in his words. She feels warmth pooling in her belly and an almost static shock in her neck where his chin is hovering. _He’s a bastard, and I’m going to kill him_ , she promises herself. _I’m going to get out of this, and one way or another, he will die._

Her life on Jakku is so repetitive that the days and years blend together seamlessly. She thinks back to the days spent scavenging, spending hours alone, often suspended more than a hundred feet above the ground with just a rope and her wits. If she fell, there would be no one to save her, and she would end up a dessicated corpse withered away in the sand. It was always the same routine: scavenge, barter her finds for water and food packs, and return home to mark another day and eat. Then the tossing and turning at night, getting a few hours of sleep before the process repeated itself… until each day bled into the next in a blur, only counted by the scratches made in the rust on the interior of the AT-AT.

Throughout it all, there was the yearning for her family, for the ones that left her in that hellhole and promised to return. The memories slid through her mind like sand through her fingers.

“You’re so lonely. So afraid to leave. At night, desperate to sleep. You imagine an ocean. I see it. I see the island.” His voice is soft, earnest, and a little desperate. She loses herself in it, until she realizes what he’s saying and an ominous feeling slides through her consciousness. She can’t bear to make eye contact with him, afraid she’ll see the sincerity she hears in his voice written plainly across his face.

“And Han Solo. You feel like he’s the father you never had.” His voice turns bitter. “He would have disappointed you.”

Realization dawns, cold and horrible along her spine. “Get out of my head!” She spits, turning her head to glare at him.

He regards her with an indifferent look on his face, his tone cold as he says “I know you’ve seen the map. It’s in there. And now you’ll give it to me.”

* * *


End file.
